


Debts repaid

by Adorebelle



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Height Differences, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adorebelle/pseuds/Adorebelle
Summary: Nothing is free, even after many years all debts must be paid.
Relationships: Avallac'h | Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha/Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Ciri/Avallac'h
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Debts repaid

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. This is my first fic on this site, I decided a while ago to try my hand at writing and always loved this ship from the games and books. This is my first attempt so feel free to leave pointers in the comments on what should be changed or what would make it better. I decided to post this today being valentines day and what better way to celebrate then with some raunchy smut;)

It had been years since she had any contact with Avallac'h, not since that day at Tedd Deireadh. She had seen him briefly when she emerged from the portal, but that had been hardly worth remembering. Their exchange was simply an acknowledgment of a job well done and a nod farewell.

Her attention had been mostly focused on the pure Joy written on the Witcher's face, the new found happiness they shared at the prospects the future now held for them.

Oh how she missed those days..

Months had been spent on the path, she had learnt everything the white wolf knew. All the blood, cold nights, the horrified looks of peasants and townsfolk alike; when two frightening beings wielding silver swords arrived to settle a contract.

How she missed it...longed for it.

What she wouldn't give for just one more day at her fathers side.  
Her comfortable bed, quant estate, pantry in abundance of spices and grain. All would be burned, set alight for an hour of his company.

But Geralt was dead--Ten years dead

The Witcher had lived a good long life for someone of their profession and she was sure he had been the first to die in his bed. Surrounded by the extravagance of Corvo Bianco and his most beloved daughter, whom he had gone to the edge of the world and back for. With Yennefers name on his lips he had slipped away; Eagerly awaiting to return to his lover's arms.

Leaving Ciri completely and utterly alone.

Even before Geralt's death, the world had changed. Contracts were few and far between, monsters were disappearing; Like everything, being overrun by human expansion. And so at Corvo Bianco she had remained -living a simpler life than she could have ever thought to imagine. Harvests were good, profits generous each year, servants and workers did not ask too many questions. They had learnt well from their previous master not to pry about the ashen haired woman who seemed to appear and disappear like a flash of lightning in a storm.  
Yes their mistress was strange indeed!

Even With all the heartache and boredom of quant domestication, life continued.

Until today. An inhumanly tall shadow appeared in the courtyard at dusk. What poor miserable creature would dare break into a lion's den.  
The deliciously expensive bottle of red liquor in hand was to act as her impromptu weapon against this unfortunate intruder.

Turning around, the shadows' familiar eyes widened slightly at the sight before him.

\----------

Absolutely not!  
They still wished for a child.  
The absurdity of it astounded her.  
Well…..surely it did, didn't it?

It was not truly a shock, as she had long suspected what he would want in return for his years of help. Geralt had even an idea of that.  
How many debts had she wracked up, many not even her own. Lara had not been blamed for anything, of course not! In the eyes of the aen elle, their most beloved child had been stolen by humanity. Butchered and slain. Ignoring the love she held for the human sorcerer, forgetting the choice she made of her own will to leave Tir na lia. Such things were of no concern. The mental contortions the elves made to twist history to justify the means was impressive. As long as the elder blood ran through that of a Dh’oine, a daughter of cregennan. The blame would lie on her shoulders.

But how would a child by her be any different truly? Would it still not be a filthy hybrid. A reminder of their greatest loss and failure, No doubt inheriting many of her savage features.  
But…

A child of her own did not sound so terrible to her ears now. Once she had sworn to never bare one. In that time the continent and beyond seemed to have been at war over her womb, and death seemed to follow anyone who tried to fill it.

The thought had crossed her mind now and then, at times when she had taken a lover, but they had been few and far between. A short time of entertainment, small diligences if you will.  
The thought of someone constant, a being bound to her by flesh and blood did sound like the cure to her never ending loneliness.

‘What conditions do you have in mind if I was to agree?’ Softly spoken, almost embarrassed she was considering this.

Hiding the shocked expression that almost made its way onto his face. ‘You are considering my proposal.’

Sigh….’just answer the question’

‘Well naturally they are to be sired by an elf, obviously, who would give the best chance of reactivating the alder gene.’

Furrowing her brow. ‘Was it not Auberon, you said, would have been best for that?’  
Shuddering at the memory of the impotent king. Too old for desire, too disgusted by her race to feign interest. Although thought of as a beloved ruler and great sage. Died in the most dishonorable way.

‘Huh.. yes, it is true our departed king would have been our best bet, but there are others whose genetics still hold promise to the nurturing of future lines with your abilities.’

Ah yes who could forget the notorious eugenics practiced by the aen elle. It was a given they would have more than a few special individuals, similar to Caranthir, brought forth through generations of chosen individuals coming together.

‘And of course’...he continued ‘they will be raised in Tir na lia.’

Ah. Green eyes narrowed. To rip a babe from their mothers arms, how great a way for a new life to start.

‘I would think you would be glad to not have to deal with a child for too long. Given how in the past you seemed displeased with the notion altogether’

Blushing slightly at the memory. Who could forget such an awful topic of conversation, especially since she was so young and desperate at the time. Who would have thought she would now be considering it willingly now.

‘I am not a child anymore, nor am i at your mercy!’ Yes the fire within her was back.  
‘Furthermore ‘ Advancing towards him, with a finger pointed towards his chest ‘I do not know what I owe you anyway, I saved both our worlds and people. And I do not believe others actions should be reflected upon me’

Oh yes this is the Cirilla he remembered. So demanding, so quick to anger, quick to accuse: yet.. A beautiful Greedy monster. Oh no she was not a child anymore. He had not thought of her as such for a long time.

A wisp of a girl who stumbled into their world disorientated and ruffled. Afraid yet fierce.  
No, now she was a woman in every sense. Not only in the way her body had developed more generously in certain areas, but she had held her quick tongue longer than he anticipated.

‘Compromises can of course be made.’ The elf had promised not to force her into anything years ago, and he aimed to keep his word. Although humans so often did not take heed of what is said, so often trapping themselves with thoughtless words and assumptions.

But beggars could not be choosers and it was surprising enough for her to be so receptive to his request.

‘You would be open to letting them stay with me...here?’ uncertainty creeping into her voice.  
‘Although not ideal, you and I are not unfamiliar with traversing between our worlds.’ He was far too familiar with this world. Countless days and nights in his lab, hidden away, protected by the reckless waves among the skellige isles. Recording the ever expanding lineage tree of Lara, trying to purify its essence… in later days spying, watching, obsessing!

‘That is of course true.’ nibbling her lip in contemplation. ‘They would stay with me mostly though, it would not be wise to have a child unsettled too often.’

So greedy, wanting everything, with little compensation. But even if raised under such meager surroundings, the Aen Saevherne had complete confidence in what time they would spend in the land of the alders would be enough to sway any being to migrate there once matured. The beauty and mystique were far superior to anything found in the Aen Seidhe world, not to mention the quality of company available.

Perhaps even the swallow may be tempted to spread her wings and migrate to warmer climates, where it's always spring...maybe in time, she could be convinced.

‘There is much time to polish over finer details Zireael.’ A hand reaches out to brush against her forearm, barely touching the fabric. ‘I am very glad that you are agreeable to such an arrangement.’

Slightly moving away from the unexpected touch, the former witcher furrowed her brow. The closeness to her person catching her off guard.

But, you still have not answered my question.’ Staring off into the distance, folding her arms, avoiding those bright aquamarine orbs. ‘ who would be the father, the sire?’

\----------

It made sense she supposed. He was destined to father a child with Lara. Before being ferried away by the human sorcerer, Cregennan Of Lodd. Now with Auberon gone, he was the most logical choice.

Staring out over the fields, the moon was bright enough to offer a serene view. Clutching her night shift sleeves. Perhaps some liquid courage would calm her nerves.  
Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, nauseating yet exciting.

No! Wine would only exacerbate the turmoil and strengthen the possibility of embarrassment. Embarrassment she already felt at the thought of being in such a position with someone who was like a mentor to her, a teacher, a protector, an unlikely ally in a cold storm of phantoms and steel. There was a time in her youth, a very brief time, where she had entertained the idea of lying with him, if only to hasten her departure from their imprisonment. But stealth hands around her neck quickly squashed that idea.

Not moving from the window, the door creaked open. Light footsteps approached from behind. Still fidgeting with her shift, feeling more exposed in the opaque material than ever.

Fingertips brushed the long ashen strands draping her lower back, moving to circle around her waist. A nose pressed against her temple, inhaling, as the heat against her back intensified.

‘Zireael’

Turning around in his arms, she looked up into his face. The candles illuminating the room cast shadows over the Sharpe contours of his face, peering down at her softer features. She had never felt smaller.

Reaching up, she traced the point of his ear, along the cheekbone to the smooth skin of his jawline. Balancing on her toes to get a proper look. One of the hands on her back moved up to cup the back of her head. The other supporting her body. Soft lips pressed against hers. Moving slowly, opening and closing before a tongue tentatively tried for access.

Sighing.. Tilting her head back, allowing his lips to descend down a slender neck.  
How easy it was to forget who she was, who he was. The time, the place….everything turns into a haze at the feeling of small teeth nibbling her pulse.

Through many layers of his clothes, she could feel his desire. An arm under her thighs, lifting up, encouraging legs to wrap around a thin waist.  
Removing arms from her shift, the fabric fell, catching on her breasts before pooling around curved hips.

Carrying her towards the bed, cool sheets hit her back. Removing the last of her nightwear, a heavy body descended upon her. Enchanted fabric disintegrating, allowing skin to touch skin.

Ancient, hairless with a boyish form. Ran feverish against a strong supple body. Forged from years of combat, scattered with faded scars, so close to healed now.

Carefully taking a breast into a large hand. Squeezing, fingers brushing over a nipple before lips took over, suckling intently, before the same treatment was bestowed upon the other.

A delightful tingle erupted in her lower body. Her wriggling hips delighted the elf. With keening noises, becoming more desperate. The woman was more and more responsive to amorous touches.  
Wet bites moved down a taut stomach, spreading thighs wider, gripping her backside and lifting her closer to his face.

Oh how she missed this feeling. To let go and bask in a moment of pleasure. To imaging nothing but sensation. He was skilled, tongue moving up and down, sinking into her every now and then. Sucking out moans from low in her throat. Not since Mistle had she relished this act so much.

Gently a finger began to enter her. Briefly looking down, she noticed him watching his own ministrations. Eyes dark, focused on the hand driving her body to move against long fingers.  
Turning away, the woman bit into her fist, trying to stifle loud moans. As spasms took over her body.

Before she could come down from her high, she felt her body being pushed over. Giving into instinct, rising onto knees and spreading her legs.

What a wonderful view was in front of the elf. The lion cub of Cintra presenting herself to a male...fitting.

Smirking at his own pun.  
Although the pose was one of submission, he wondered if she knew it was he who was truly at her mercy. In this moment, she could make any command and he would oblige. Just to keep her here, with him..forever.

Pulling her hips back, he entered her. Bit by bit, deeper each thrust. It would be uncomfortable at first, but she would adjust.

Her slight whimpers turned to moans, soft and breathy. Pressing down on her back, pushing flush against the bed.  
The silken sheets beneath her and the warm body pressed against her back created an overwhelming sensation. His thrusts were slow, leisurely, without a single hurry.

The elf savored the feeling of gliding back and forth, in and out. Feeling it all. One must always take the time to enjoy moments in life, and not run headlong to its conclusion. He would take his time, regardless of the little D’hoine beneath him straining to speed things up.  
The build up was subtle, but strong. Wanting to watch her come undone again, see her eyes glaze with abandonment.

Craning his neck towards her small round ear, softly ‘ Turn around Zireael’

She shivered at the breath that tickled her ear. Without hesitation she turned over, unashamedly opening her legs wide.

So inviting, awaiting him warm and moist. Such delicious torture she inflicted upon him.  
Over and over hips rolled, palms kneaded soft breasts. Grunts and whimpers bounced off walls in an ancient song of passion.  
Arching her back and stretching her legs out over his hips. His L’oc’Hlaith mewled at her climax. Feeling her body squirm and pulsate around him, the elf let go of his restraint.

Closing the gap between their bodies he began to move faster. Deeper and harder, almost to the point of sweet pain.

Running her hands up and down his back. Gripping a fist full of hair, he buried his face into the messy blond locks. Inhaling deeply as he stilled, groaning, shuddering as he satisfied himself within her womb.

Not willing to release the sage yet, and let the moment slip away. She continued to stroke up and down his spine. Enjoying the weight trapping her to the bed. Falling into a comfortable silence in the quiet night, with even breathing at her ear lulling her to sleep.

\-----  
The sun was incessantly rude the next morning. Shining far too brightly in the cool early hours.  
Stirring slightly, the unfamiliar feeling of restraint had her heart skip a beat in the slight delusion between sleep and awake.

Cracking open an eye, elegant swirling patterns of ruin tattoos greeted her. Sometime during the night he must have moved them to a more comfortable position. Not that she was complaining. The steady thumping of a heartbeat under her cheek was soothing, almost enough to soothe her into slumber again.

She had half expected him to disappear into the night after the deed was done. To leave and not return until the results of their coupling had been confirmed or denied. But here he was lying there, eyes closed and arms around her in a comfortable embrace.

She had never seen his face so relaxed, so vulnerable. Studying his face, she lifted a hand to run align the bridge of his nose. So handsome and delicate. Eyes opened. Cheeks reddening with embarrassment at being caught in the act, feeling as though she had violated him during his sleep.

Catching her wrist before she could pull it back completely, he laid her palm against his cheek. While raising his to brush against her scar.  
‘It is still early, we have some time before we must rise, Come Luned.’

She fell back into his arms, aware of how truly awake his body was becoming. Realizing she need not worry that he would disappear into the night, or leave as all others who had forsaken her in this life. He would remain, wherever fate may carry her. He would follow his Loc’Hlaith, his Zireael...his Ciri.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
